It's a Fine Day for It
by dress without sleeves
Summary: John Darling is concerned. Peter and Wendy have children, but they aren't married... well, there's only one solution: a wedding! But between Scheming!Tink, Baffled!Smee, and a rowdy band of Lost Boys, will they even make it down the ... er ... plank?
1. That Seems Reasonable

**Author's Note:** Well, here's the first chapter of what will be a short, five-or-so chapter story. I've been fighting with this idea for a few days now; it simply refuses to go away and demands to be written.

What's a poor girl to do?

Reviews give my fingers the strength and speed to carry on … hint, hint.

-dws

It's a Fine Day for It

_Because…_

_You've gotta love kids._

**Chapter One: That Seems Reasonable**

The Lost Boys, all but one, dove off of the _Jolly Roger_'s plank and into the ocean. Even baby Michael took the plunge; clutching Bear with a delighted shriek, he plugged his nose and squeezed his eyes shut until impact with the water. As he bobbed to the surface, Nibs grabbed a hold of his arm and hefted him onto the ladder.

John Darling sat out, watching with a faint frown as Peter somersaulted into the water, making the biggest splash of all. The boy then caught a squealing Wendy in his grip and shook water all over her. "_Peter_!" Wendy, giggling, tousled his hair playfully. "You've got me all wet!" The boy who would never grow up just laughed smugly, and handed Wendy a large towel.

This exchange was particularly troubling to John. Wendy, noticing his discomfort, came to sit beside him, towel draped over her shoulders. "What's the matter, John?"

"You _are_ my mother, aren't you, Wendy?" He asked, suddenly grabbing her hand.

She cocked her head at him, puzzled. "Of course!"

"And Peter is my father?"

Wendy laughed affectionately, brushing John's bangs away from his face. "You are full of silly questions today, John. Who else do you think your father could be?"

But John shook his head. "Then you and Father are married, aren't you?"

That threw the older girl for a pause, and she could do nothing but stare for several seconds, blinking rapidly. John, seeing that he had upset his mother, explained hurriedly, "It's only that mothers and fathers _ought_ to be married."

She looked disturbed, her eyes flying to Peter and sticking there as a light blush colored her cheeks. "_John_!" she cried, embarrassed. "I…"

But Wendy had no answer for him; for indeed, she remembered, mothers and fathers _ought_ to be married. Her mind conjured all sorts of words that she couldn't _quite_ attach meanings to, except that a severe sense of impropriety surged through her: words such as _wedlock_, and _wanton, _and _loose_.

Wendy wasn't entirely sure of the location of the path of sin, but it sounded positively dreadful and she was one-hundred-percent certain that she didn't want to walk it.

"Well, yes, John," she managed finally. "I suppose they ought to be."

John seemed appeased. "Well then," he spoke with finality, "You and Peter are to be married!"

"We're _what_?"

Both children spun at the new voice; Peter's hands were on his hips and an absolutely baffled expression donned his face. Wendy's face darkened to a shade comparable to a summer rose as John stated matter-of-factly, "You're to be married. _All_ mothers and fathers must be married."

Peter frowned. "What's 'married'?" He asked, and his eyes lit. "Is it dangerous?"

John looked at Wendy, who sought desperately for a proper answer. "Oh, no. To be married is…oh, dear. It's a…a promise, that mothers and fathers make, that means…that they'll always stay together, and…and always care for their children, as long as they live."

They waited without breath as he seemed to consider the idea. "That seems reasonable," he decided.

Disregarding her towel, Wendy threw her arms around Peter's neck joyfully. "But," she exclaimed as she pulled away, suddenly realizing what a _big_ undertaking a wedding was, "Who will marry us?"

Peter frowned at her, puzzled. "I thought that _I_ was marrying you," he said slowly.

Wendy laughed patiently, resisting the urge to thimble his cheek (because Peter didn't like to show affection in front of the Lost Boys; Fathers were supposed to be tough). "You are. But someone has to actually perform the ceremony."

Nibs, who had joined the group, raised his hand eagerly. "I can do it!" He cried eagerly. "Oh, _please_, Mother!"

Wendy, who didn't like to show any doubts in her sons, eyed him nervously. "Are you certain? It's a very important job." He nodded earnestly, a smile lighting his face. "All right, then, Nibs," she declared. "John can teach you what to say to join us in marriage."

With a gleeful whoop, Nibs leapt to his feet and ran to the edge of the _Jolly Roger_. "Did you hear that, boys? _I_'_m_ going to marriage Mother and Father!"

This news brought a fresh hoard of Lost Boys, each clambering to have a special job in the wedding. Wendy pressed her hands to her cheeks, overwhelmed. "Oh, my!" She cried fretfully. "One at a time boys, please!"

But they ignored her, continuing their shouting and tugging at her nightgown, until, "_SHUT UP_!" Silence flattened each boys' smile and Peter pointed his sword threateningly. "The next person to speak without permission gets run through!"

Wendy sat up a little straighter, although she knew he hadn't been speaking to her. Sometimes Peter was a little frightening (but really, it was part of the appeal).

"All right," she began in a soothing tone, "I'm sure we can find something for each of you. Nibs shall conduct the ceremony…Slightly, you can provide music…Toodles, you can be the ring bearer…and…and of course I shall need…" she cast around for something to say, "I shall need…"

"Guests!"

She blinked, turning her head in surprise at the sound of Peter's voice. He winked. "That's the most important job of all, gents. Just think of it: you have to sit as still and quiet as possible so's you don't disturb anything. And if you don't…" he trailed off, shuddering.

Wendy's eyes twinkled as she bit her lip, playing along. "Oh, perhaps that's too dangerous for the boys, Peter," she began, before the shouts of the boys overpowered her meek suggestion.

"_Please_, Mother!"

"We can do it, Mother!"

"I won't hardly make no sound at all!"

"I'm the quietest boy you ever saw, Mother, I can do it!"

She smiled, heaving a sigh. "Oh, all right," she acquiesced. "But you _must_ be careful, won't you? I need you to promise." The children each held out a pinkie, and Wendy dutifully linked with each in turn. "No crossies," she demanded sternly, and the boys nodded solemnly. She met Peter's eyes. "Thank-you," she said to him quietly.

He didn't answer, merely grinned smugly. "Oh, the cleverness of me," he crowed, before lifting into the air and diving back into the water. The Lost Boys quickly followed; this time with John in tow. Wendy shook her head, smiling as each sprinted off of the plank and into the cool ocean below.

Something in Wendy declared loudly that weddings weren't supposed to happen _exactly_ like this; but something else, something larger exclaimed that it didn't matter how things were done in London—this was Neverland and she, Wendy Moira Angela Darling, was about to become a Pan.


	2. The Destruction of Plan A

**Author's Notes:** Well, here's the second chapter! We finally get to see a bit of Scheming!Tinkerbell (who is _incredibly_ fun to write)! She'll only get worse, folks…before she gets better. I have big plans for Tinkerbell, oh yes.

Tiger Lily is a little bland at the moment…I'm trying to fix this problem, but she just didn't seem to want to participate. Ah well…

Pardon the Peter/Wendy fluff…I can't help myself. Really. I can't.

Read and review!

-dws

It's a Fine Day for It

_For the door in the third floor lecture room_

_Thanks for the contusion._

**Chapter Two: The Destruction of Plan A**

Tinkerbell was not angry.

Tinkerbell was not furious.

Tinkerbell was _livid._

Tinkerbell was utterly blind with completely unadulterated rage. Her wrath tainted the sparkling fairy dust, dulling the bright glitter to musky red specs; she buzzed around Hangman's Hollow in an absolute tizzy, unable to focus on anything but the twisting pit in her stomach.

_Oh_, that _horrible_ Wendy!

As if it wasn't enough to attract—no, to _lure_ Peter in with her … _stories_, the ugly tramp had to be so presumptuous as to…to overthrow Tinkerbell as feminine monarch of the Lost Boys. One look at her and they'd all cast aside 'funny little Tinkerbell', like she _hadn't_ spent the past _eight_ seasons taking care of them.

Ungrateful. That's what they were, all of them. Especially stupid Peter Pan. She'd taught him everything he knew! How to fly, how to crow, how to fight, how to smirk…she was the only one who could make him laugh when he was crying, and the only one who'd known him since he was a baby.

But one stupid story from that Wendy character, and Tinkerbell was cast aside like…like some bug!

Well. No longer. Tinkerbell was _not_ about to let this 'wedding', so-called, ruin all of their lives. Oh, no. She was not going to let Peter tie himself to the ungrateful Wendy, not if it was the last thing she ever did in her whole little fairy life.

Feeling a little better, Tink settled herself on Peter's kiss, comfortably resting her head in her hands. This would take planning, oh yes. Lot's of planning. And perhaps a little help…

Tink frowned. But who _didn_'_t_ want Peter and Wendy to marry? Not the Lost Boys, not John or Michael, not the other fairies (who didn't understand her obsess…er, friendship with Peter anyway). Who wouldn't want Peter to be with Wendy (ever)?

Hmm. Was there anyone else in Neverland that wanted Peter for herself? Tinkerbell wasn't going to deny it; for a kid, the boy had serious charm. It was the cleverness thing, she thought, and the _spectacular_ comebacks, and the sense of authority and discipline and courage of a warrior and—

Tinkerbell paused. _Warrior._

A little smile tipped onto her lips. Of _course_! Who else didn't want Peter with Wendy? Someone who wanted him to be her _special warrior_…

With no noise at all, and just a little fairy dust, Tinkerbell darted off of the thimble and out from Hangman's Hollow, eyes focused on the Indian encampment. It didn't take her long to span the distance; fairies fly quite fast when they're hurried. The teepees were mostly empty; most of the hunters were out now, and the women had gathered outside to finish chores. Tinkerbell zeroed in on her target, carefully avoiding any laundry (because it's _killer_ trying to get fairy dust out of clothing!) until she settled on Tiger Lily's left shoulder.

"Hullo, Tink," the Indian greeted cheerfully in English so the fairy could understand. "How are you?"

The fairy scowled. "Haven't you heard?"

Tiger Lily paused, turning in surprise. "Heard what?" She asked, and then drew her knife. She dove the blade into the earth and began to rotate her wrist, loosening the dirt until she could easily dig into it with her fingers.

"It's Peter," Tink relayed miserably. "He's going to be…" she shuddered, forcing her mouth around the foul-tasting word, "_married_."

That threw the Indian Princess for a pause, and her jaw dropped. "_Married_?" She repeated. "What is _that_?!" She started to smile, and Tink edged away nervously as the expression looked almost…feral. "It sounds dangerous."

The fairy rolled her eyes. _Really._ Sometimes she forgot that, push come to shove, she was surrounded by children. "It's not," she explained, "Actually, it's frightfully boring. It means that he's going to make a binding promise to Wendy that he'll stay with her for_ever _and he'll never give thimbles to anyone else."

Tiger Lily thought about that. "Forever is an _awfully_ long time," she noted slowly. "Peter really wants to do that?"

Tinkerbell seized her chance. "I don't think so. I think that Wendy tricked him into it. I think she told him that she'd leave Neverland if she didn't and, well, _you_ know the Lost Boys. Of course they wanted her to stay, so they convinced Peter to do it. We've got to help him, Tiger Lily!"

The princess narrowed her eyes. "I won't let Peter do something he doesn't want to. I like Wendy, but Peter's my best friend."

Tink, excited, jingled loudly by the girl's ear. "Well, what are we _waiting_ for?! Come on, girl!"

She grabbed a lock of Tiger Lily's hair and began to pull, propelling the child along (narrowly avoiding four trees and one thorn bush) until they stood a shouting-distance from the _Jolly Roger._

Tiger Lily cupped her hands around her mouth and crowed loudly. Tinkerbell, taking this as her cue, ducked into Tiger Lily's pocket and hide in the dark of the cloth, ears pricked carefully (as fairies have excellent hearing). Peter landed loudly next to his friend and greeted jovially, "How, Tiger Lily."

Tinkerbell held her breath, listening. "Hallo, Peter. I heard the news."

"News? Oh! You mean about me and Wendy?" Tinkerbell could practically _hear_ the smugness in his tone. _Gag._ "Isn't it great?"

"Great? But Tink said that Wendy—oof!" Tinkerbell aimed a kick at Tiger Lily's chest (where, she knew with a small sense of glee, the budding young woman was the most…vulnerable). "But I thought you didn't want to," she amended, bringing a hand to rub at the tender area (while at the same time maliciously squishing Tink with her palm).

There was a puzzled pause. "Why wouldn't I want to?" Peter laughed. "The way Wendy explained it, marriage is when mothers and fathers make a promise to stay with each other for ever and ever and ever and ever and ever."

That, Tinkerbell thought miserably, was an awful lot of _ever_s.

"That's all? I'd like to be married then, too," Tiger Lily mused wonderingly, her disapproval dissipated without a second thought.

Tinkerbell, poking her head out of Tiger Lily's pocket, watched Peter shrug. "Well, John says it means that I get to have Wendy's Hidden Thimble…and that we have to sleep in the same bed." The fairy hissed as Peter's face darkened red.

_What_?!

"Peter!" She spluttered, unable to contain herself any longer. "Don't do it!"

He stared at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "Tinkerbell? What are you doing here?"

Tinkerbell struggled to keep herself calm. Human boys were so _stupid_ sometimes. "Don't marry Wendy," she exclaimed. "It means all sorts of…_responsibilities_, and isn't any fun at all!"

But Peter just laughed her away, like always. "Tink, it means I get to Thimble Wendy and keep her in Neverland, always. What's not fun about that?"

And he took off, Tiger Lily waving happily. "Well, Tink, looks like you heard wrong about Wendy," she said cheerfully. "I'll bet you feel better, don't you?"

Tinkerbell slouched grouchily back into her pocket. "_Much_," she hissed between her teeth, in that voice that _really_ says: no-I-do-_not_-feel-better-why-would-you-even-ask-you-idiot.

In the darkness of Tiger Lily's shirt, Tinkerbell put her thinking cap on one more time. She was _seriously_ in need of a Plan B.

----

Wendy stared in dismay at her closet. The contents: three dresses, two pairs of stockings, and three sets of unmentionables. Nothing at _all_ suitable for a wedding. She needed a _real_ dress, with lace and frills and a whole manner of other accessories.

But how could she possibly make something that intricate in the short time that she had? Upon leaving London, Wendy hadn't expected to need any fancy dresses—she certainly hadn't expected to be _married_, of all things. But here she was, a girl of twelve, already a mother of ten and bride-to-be!

"Wendy?" She turned, hands on her hips. Peter's head cocked to the left and he seemed strangely amused by her consternation. "What are you looking for?"

Hurriedly closing her closet door, she brushed her hair out of her eyes and blushed prettily. "Oh," she muttered. "I was…I was looking for something to wear." She stared at the floor, idly thinking that she _must_ sweep, because the boys would _never_ do it and she wasn't going to marry Peter somewhere _dirty_.

"Why do you need something special?" Peter asked, frowning. "You look fine."

She smiled to herself, wishing privately that she could be a boy so she wouldn't have to worry about things like dresses and hair and how pretty she was when she smiled. "I don't want to look _fine_ for our…for the wedding, Peter. I want…" she trailed off, horrified. Wendy didn't like to discuss her feelings, if it was avoidable; especially not on an island filled with boys who, while they had the best of intentions, weren't always quite…sensitive enough.

There was a questioning silence. Wendy sighed, mumbling, "I want to look _lovely_."

Peter laughed, and Wendy didn't look at him. Oh, she _knew_ that his laughter didn't mean she couldn't ever have a chance at loveliness, of but of course he wouldn't think to say—"Wendy, you're _always_ lovely. But we can find you something if you'd like."—anything sweet, because…

Wendy blinked, her head snapping up. "_What_?"

"Well, I think there's left over booty on the _Jolly Roger_ that we can loot. The boys left it because we don't wear dresses or necklaces but…" he shrugged.

Wendy shook her head, waving away his comment. "No, no, I mean…what did you say before that?"

Peter stared at her, completely baffled. He scratched his hair, scrunching his face as he thinks. "I said…'you're always lovely'?"

She stood quietly for a moment, rocking back on her heels as she let his words sink in. Then, in a flash, she rocketed at him, throwing herself full-force onto his chest and plowing him over. Peter gave a surprised yelp that Wendy ignored because _oh_, sometimes her boys could be so positively _wonderful_. "Thank you," she said, breathlessly.

Peter gazed up at her smiling face and seemed content not to understand. "Your welcome," he answered, "The cleverness of me."

"Indeed," Wendy giggled, and then scrambled to her face. "To the _Jolly Roger_?" She offered him a hand, which he took, and together they maneuvered out of Hangman's Hollow and over the trees. Peter clutched her hand as they landed on deck, and Wendy allowed herself to be led into the captain's quarters. She gasped as Peter threw open a thin little door that had been hidden behind the bed; inside was a closet of jewelry, shoes, and _yes_—dresses.

Wendy frowned suddenly. "Why would Hook have kept women's clothing?" She asked herself aloud.

Peter shrugged. "Maybe he liked the wind 'round his legs," he stated, and then blushed, "not that I would know."

But Wendy wasn't paying attention. She dove into the closet gleefully, picking through her choices with a small sense of awe. She felt like a queen, haughtily discarding perfectly fine dresses and shoes simply because she _could_.

Peter watched the spectacle with a puzzled frown. Wendy had lost all abandon; he watched her treat the dresses the way that the Lost Boys treated food, or arrows. She seemed enraptured by the gifts that Hook has unknowingly given her, truly enjoying herself purely for the sake of fun. Peter couldn't remember the last time Wendy did something for _herself_, without some higher, Lost-Boy-driven or even Peter-Pan-driven motive.

He smiled to himself as she squealed softly, hand slowly extending to pull a white dress off of its hanger. She admired the material for a moment and then pulled the lacy collar to her cheek, eyes shut in rapture. "_This_," she declared softly, "Shall be my wedding dress."

Her eyes were shining as she smiled at him, and Peter was too busy admiring the thimble on the corner of her mouth to notice a furious red ball of fairy dust hovering beside his ear.


	3. Practically a Gentleman

**Author's Notes:** Shorter, but finally we have a crisis! Oooooh Tinkerbell. Such an instigator.

I hope you all like it. It's not perfect but I felt like I had to post _something_ Peter Pan.

Also, I just saw The Holiday and _ohmygodsogood._ Jude Law's Napkin Man made me want to write something childishly amusing.

-dws

It's a Fine Day for It

_For Dean Winchester_

_P.S. I love you_

**Chapter Three: Practically a Gentleman**

Tinkerbell hissed quietly to herself, unable to contain the simmering frenzy that began to build in her stomach. Her mind rapidly shifted through the various ways that she could eliminate the "_Wendy-problem_" altogether. Neverland was full of tall cliffs cushioned by pointed rocks, and unnamed waterholes that were easy to disappear into . . .

Not, of course, that she actually planned to go through with any of these deliciously satisfying fantasies. She simply needed something to calm her down, and the image of Wendy tumbling into an immeasurably deep abyss usually did the trick.

Tinkerbell shook her head, clearing her thoughts. There _had_ to be _something_. Some loophole, some quirk, some issue that she could prod into inflammation. Some reason that could convince Peter that marrying Wendy was a monstrously _stupid_ idea.

A little giggle dragged the fairy back into the present. Wendy had launched herself at Peter, shamelessly planting kisses/thimbles/whatever on his cheeks. "Thank you!" She breathed, her voice trembling with tears and rapture. "Oh, Peter, thank you thank you _thank_ you!"

He laughed, clearly enjoying the harlot's—er, that is, girl's attention. "You're welcome, Wendy."

Wendy pulled away from him, rocking back onto her heels and clasping her hands in front of her. Tinkerbell sneered at the feminine pose, thinking, _If I were that size I'd look pretty all the time, too._ "The cleverness of you, Peter! How on Earth did you find all these wonderful clothes? You know, I'm going to have _plenty_ of dresses now—I had thought that I would need to return to London to get some more, but with these I'll be set forever!"

Peter seemed alarmed by Wendy's mention of her home, and took a quick step towards her as though to keep her from flying off at that very moment. She continued blithely, "I never had very many nice things in London, although of course that didn't much bother me. Mother always said that there's a difference between a real, classy lady and a rich lady and that men could _always_ tell. What do you think, Peter?"

He blinked. "I don't have any idea," he admitted slowly, as though Wendy were completely mad (which, Tinkerbell thought nastily, she probably was).

"Oh. Well, I suppose you haven't seen enough ladies." That seemed to settle the matter to Wendy, and she happily returned to gazing at her dress. Not looking at Peter, she suddenly asked, "Do you think I'm a real lady, Peter?"

Upon closer inspection, Tinkerbell discerned that Wendy's cheeks were bright red. Peter coughed, suddenly turning his back and strolling over to inspect Hook's desk, prodding at the different items as though he cared what they were or meant. "Sure I do," he managed, and soon his face matched the shade of Wendy's. "Sure."

She beamed, giggling a little to herself. "Thank you."

Peter turned and they just stood in silence, grinning at one another. Tinkerbell curled her lip. She didn't need stupid Peter Pan, anyway. Who did he think he was, to pick and choose when he would be her friend? Tinkerbell turned up her nose. She had other placed to be, other friends to hang out with. Friends like …

Like …

She made a face. All right, so, maybe not many other friends, but that was okay because who said she needed any friends at all?

Tinkerbell deflated, glowing miserably at Wendy. Why did she have to leave the nursery window open? Why, _why_ did she have to tell such spectacularly interesting stories? And above all, _why_ wouldn't she just _go home_?

But of course Peter would never let her. Peter would rather die than see his Wendy-lady leave, an emotion entirely too grown up, in Tinkerbell's opinion.

She paused, eyes flitting from Wendy back to Peter. _Too grown up._

A tiny, feral little smile curled onto the fairy's lips. Welcome to existence, Plan B.

----

Smee frowned, scratching his head in befuddlement. He tried to order his thoughts in his brain so that he could correctly understand them, but the excitable fairy spoke so fast that he couldn't catch up. "Wait!" He cried desperately. "Hold on a second there, matey. Yeh lost me at wha' I _think_ might'a been 'Peter's ferried blenders'."

Tinkerbell growled, rolling her eyes. "_No_! Haven't you been _listening_? I said: 'Peter's marrying Wendy'! How in the name of Hook did you hear 'blenders'?" He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. "Nevermind. The point is that I have a job for you, Smee, and if you do it for me I'll give you whatever you want."

He furrowed his brow, considering. But Tinkerbell wasn't worried; at heart, Smee was a pirate and always _would_ be a pirate, no matter how fond he'd become of Peter and the Lost Boys. "The price'd be the _Jolly Roger_," he declared then, firmly. "I wanna be captain o' me own ship."

Tinkerbell struck out her hand. "Deal," she declared instantly. "Now this is what we do…"

----

"Aye! Peter, m'lad!" Peter raised his eyebrows as Smee trundled into Hook's old quarters. The pirate's eyes darted around the room greedily, taking in the jeweled trinkets and silk fabric curtains. "Preparin' for the weddin', are yeh?" Peter smiled, flying over to accept Smee's outstretched hand. He then perched on the edge of the desk, cheerfully tossing grapes into the air and catching them in his mouth. He purposefully didn't answer—he knew too much about pirates to ever really trust one, and even though the Lost Boys all adored the bumbling idiot, Peter would never quite forget the sight of him tying Wendy to the mast of the _Jolly Roger._

"Well," Smee floundered for something to say. "Good lad. Very mature choice, gettin' married. When I was a boy, I never thought about commitment. But you … almost a man, eh?"

Peter froze. The word tasted foul as he spluttered, "A _man_? Me? No!"

Smee seemed not to hear him. "Aye, and Wendy here livin' with yeh, too. You're practically a gen'lman!"

Horror seized through Peter. Visions of office buildings and tailored suits and worried wrinkles weighing down his face flashed before his eyes; he saw himself and Wendy in a nice parlor, too tall and too serious and too…_old_. Without another word to Smee, Peter lifted into the air and sped from the _Jolly Roger_, avoiding the Indian Encampment and the Fairy's Tree and even Dead Man's Cove.

He landed in front of the house and went in without hesitation. Wendy sat in her chair, sewing the dress she'd found in Hook's closet—_altering_ was the word she'd used.

He put his hands on his hips, looking her sternly in the eyes as she greeted, "Oh, hello, Peter!"

Peter stepped back as she stood and ignored her puzzled frown. "We're not getting married anymore," he stated firmly.

Wendy's jaw dropped, and for a moment Peter thought she was going to faint. Then she asked, very softly, "Why not?"

"You didn't tell me that marriage is what grown-up men do and I am _not_ a man, so I will _not_ marry you!" His voice was a bit harsher than he'd intended; after all, he didn't think that she'd _meant_ to trick him. Sometimes Wendy forgot how important childhood was to him. But she had to learn, and Fathers were all about discipline.

Her eyes filled with tears, and Peter looked away. "Well, if that's how you feel about it," she murmured. "Then we won't get married." There was a long pause, in which Peter was certain she was going to start crying. Then she tilted her head upwards, eyes narrowed and jaw set. "I didn't really want to marry you, anyways," she declared. "And _you_ have to tell Tiger Lily and the Tinkerbell and the boys that _you_ decided to take away all their fun."

Peter winced. "Awww, _Wendee._"

"No," she snapped, and he straightened on instinct. Then she strode right up in front of him and roughly shoved the white dress into his arms. "And take this. I don't want the stupid thing, or anything else!"

In a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest. Peter stared, wondering why on _earth_ she'd gotten so angry, and not enjoying the quiet discomfort that began to grow in his belly (like it always did when Wendy felt upset). "Wendy—" he ventured, and she spun until her back was facing him.

"Go away, Peter. I have a lot of work to do."

"I can help," he offered eagerly.

"I don't _want_ your help!" She nearly-yelled at him, and when she faced him he could see tears swimming in her eyes again. "Just leave me alone!"

And with a little sigh, Peter did.

Sitting on a bottle top in her house, Tinkerbell watched Wendy's lip start to tremble and fists clench at her sides as she stared at the spot Peter's form had previously occupied. A few rivulets of water tumbled onto her cheeks and stained her dress; but then Wendy straightened her shoulders, muttering, "Buck up, girl."

Guilt is a foreign feeling to a fairy, so Tinkerbell couldn't quite place the odd displacement in her chest as she watched Wendy struggle with her tears.

----

Wendy squeezed her eyes closed, trying to gain control over the liquid pressure building there. But her head was spinning so fast that she couldn't quite get her bearings; suddenly it seemed like the whole world was upside-down and she didn't know which way was straight.

What had happened?

One moment Peter was giving her dresses and jewelry and saying that she was lovely and the next . . . the next he'd called the whole thing off because—because it was too _grown up_? How dare he treat her like she'd tricked him, like the whole thing was her idea!

Wendy felt a horrible blush cover her cheeks rapidly. _Oh_, she'd forgotten the origins of this whole debacle. _Mothers and fathers ought to be married._ Wendy tried to imagine what her mother would think _now_. Not only had she slain pirates, but Wendy was also a—a—

She tried not to pay any attention to the image that popped into her head as she thought the words _scarlet woman._ But she couldn't help it; immediately she envisioned herself in the darker alleys of London, dress tattered and hair askew. Wendy wasn't sure what women like that _did_, exactly, but Mother used to say that cousin Sarah was one and _no one_ liked cousin Sarah so it must be awful.

Wendy shook her head, straightening her skirt as she tried to wipe the water off of her cheeks. Above all, Wendy was a respectable lady—and she _wasn't_ about to cast aside _all_ rules just because she lived under a tree and could fly without wings. Peter's awful delivery of the bad news settled the matter: she wouldn't be the boys' mother anymore. It simply went beyond all stretches of propriety.

Of course she couldn't tell the boys . . . . they'd be so upset, poor dears. No Wendy decided a little vindictively as she shifted through her things for a piece of paper and something to write with, best let Peter handle that.

She scribbled a hasty note and then took a deep breath, tying her hair back into a neat little ribbon. "Serves you right," she told the emptiness as she climbed out of Hangman's Hollow and into the forest.

In the room that Wendy had left, Tinkerbell flew from her post to read the neatly written words: _My dear boys, I'm sorry that I can't be your mother anymore. I had to go. Ask your father. Love, Wendy._

Tinkerbell tried to think, "Good riddance." She even attempted a smug, "Finally."

But she realized that Wendy's absence meant that the boys had no one to cook them dinner, or fix their clothes, or teach them games, or tell them stories, or comfort them when they had cried, or make sure they took their medicine, or sing them to sleep, or show them what it meant to have someone's undivided attention. Wendy's absence meant that Peter wouldn't sleep right because of the nightmares, that he'd have trouble flying for a few days, that he wouldn't be up to chasing Indians or playing tag, and that he'd get grumpy and take it out on Tinkerbell 'till she felt even worse than he did.

With this thought in mind, the best that poor, miserable, guilty Tinkerbell could muster was: "Oh . . . _poo._"


End file.
